Page 33 of Crew Princess
I veered right, catching sight of my brother’s biggest enforcer on my left, but then I braked.
Congo, a smaller version of Moose, was there.
We went straight, and Lincoln was there, a scar running the length of his face, tattoos all around his neck and arm.
Backing up, I heard Cross hiss, “Fuck!” Then he was shoved to the side, and hands grabbed me.
“Heya, cousin.”
I grimaced, hearing Scratch’s voice before being firmly guided through the street and to the back alley. Once we were between two buildings, Scratch let go, but he shifted so his hand was on my back. He kept a lone finger there, prodding me ahead. “Big brother wants to talk.”
I turned around and slapped his hand away. “Get off me.”
Cross stood to the side.
Moose, Congo, Lincoln all fell in line, along with another one of my brother’s guys, Chad. Big, red, and hairy, he was just shy of matching Moose’s height. Seeing his fuzz, I rubbed at my jaw. “Growing this out?”
Chad grinned. “Maybe. I haven’t decided. The nurse I’m dating is loving it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “A nurse, huh? That’s convenient.”
He shrugged.
Lincoln stepped forward, the silent and deadly one of the batch. “Your brother’s concerned. That’s all.”
Scratch threw him a side look. “Dude, that shit doesn’t work with Bren. She’s a Monroe. Ice-cold heart, this one has.” He poked my shoulder.
I batted it away. “Touch me again, and I’ll cut your finger off next time you’re passed out.”
Pride gleamed from his smile, his white teeth showing. He didn’t even bat an eye. “There she is. Figured domestic bliss might’ve made you soft.” He chuckled. “Nice to know my little wild cousin is still in there.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and moved away, keeping an eye on me as he did.
It was useless to fight. Cross knew that too. These guys made up the oldest crew in Roussou.
My brother was just leaving his bar when he saw us coming.
He stopped in front of us, and his guys formed a circle, giving us a pocket of privacy. All around, people were coming in and out of his bar, most probably going to join the street dance. But it was nearing evening time, so the crowd was going to only get bigger. Channing’s bar usually had a line wrapping around the corner and halfway down the block, especially on a weekend night.
“Ah.” He stopped in front of us, folding his arms over his chest. His gaze moved from me to Cross and back again. “The two little ingrates who sleep under my roof, fuck under my roof, and eat all of my food.” He tsked us, shaking his head. “I tell you one thing to do, and you do the opposite.” His face hardened and his gaze settled right on me. “Where’d you go last night?”
“Technically, we stayed at the house.”
“Fine.” He moved a step closer. “Where’d you go this morning?”
“Alex Ryerson gets to his gym around five in the morning,” Cross said. “We went to have a word with him.”
Channing switched his gaze to my boyfriend, his jaw tightening. “A bird tells me your crew went and had a word with Malinda McGraw before the Fallen Crest bonfire.”
Cross and I shared a look.
“Technically…” I was all about that word tonight. “Mrs. McGraw-Strattan had a word with us. We didn’t go to see her, didn’t even know her until she came to our truck.”
“Malinda lives in a wealthy neighborhood. What were you guys doing there?”
“Fuck this,” Cross said under his breath. “My dad’s new girlfriend is over there. I was curious.”
Channing narrowed his eyes, studying us again. “Did you get your curiosity satisfied?”
Yeah. My brother knew we weren’t there for the 411 from the neighbors.
